


Prerequisites

by megagemini



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Destiny 2, Female Friendship, Gen, Post-Game(s), whats eris doing pls bungie let me know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megagemini/pseuds/megagemini
Summary: The Red War is closing at the open of another, two Hunters wrap their wounds in gunmetal and conversation.





	Prerequisites

**Author's Note:**

> Haven-9(nines) is my oc, she was trapped on Venus for close to a century before she was accidentally rescued. She's mean and smells and really hates the vex, and would occasionally trade notes w/ Eris on their connections to the hive/darkness.

Two old Hunters sit in the ballows of Io, too early or too late for alien violence. Vestiges of monsters lay scattered in pale, wispy grass. Gas shoots from geysers wreathed in bone. There is nothing for them to say anymore, as one sits with a primitive knife lain flat against her palm. They are both survivors of separate cruelty, different prisons and different scars. 

The Exo sees now, beneath the miasma of hydrogen and helium gas as they bend into the night, the loss of idiosyncrasy. 

Eris sat parallel, with beedy green eyes that flick from her to the ward. A thrumming black sphere antagonizing her molecules with Void. She asked if there was more to the whispers reflecting in the black, and forgot the specifics of Eris’s no meaning yes. Long and prophetic half truths, Haven-9 was used to this, and rolls an arm to work at the iron-rot between her joints.

The lights between Haven-9’s throat and jaw flash in patterns, organic thought resynthesized to ones and zeros. Her fingers dragging along the nine notches carved along the bow of metal on her skull. The Vex touched a hidden anatomy, A menagerie of half-remembered memories that haunt and claw like sickness. If Eris was a retrofitted portrait, a woman remade into metal-would she reboot and shuffle the cards, praying the horrors of the Hive stayed in the deck? 

She doesn’t think Eris would, and drops her hand. 

Haven-9 feels it still, through reflections of herself still trapped in the electroweak structure of Venus’ core, the kind of person she used to be. An echo, nothing more than a shadow that didn’t fit. Vex metal, soldered down to thick plates cover the Exo’s chest, she throws Eris a gun made of similar elements. 

“The bones speak to you,” 

“They speak to everyone.”

“But you loudest,” Haven-9 rasps, “so carry more guns.”

They roll into silence, Eris holds into the steel hammer with black deltas pouring from the veil, from the Dark. There are new stars hung above them as she speaks again.

“Was there forgiveness in killing your ghosts?”

“Nah.” Haven-9 leans to prod the spherical ward with the nose of her rifle, it spits white non-sparks into bitter air, and the Exo gleens, “But it makes you feel better.” 

The greatest vengeance, she found, was kindled in the weaponization of fear. Eris knew this, just like her, and Haven-9 was glad they were too old for pity. Eris only bits back a hiss, dark armor against dark rock, and she suspects this is where her eyes work best.


End file.
